


Heather

by gaywrites



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: 8th year, Draco Malfoy is a dumbass, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Harry Potter is oblivious, Hogsmeade, M/M, Mixed Houses, Shared Dorms, Slow Burn, hermione just wants everyone to get along, himbo ron weasley, teenagers being teenagers, wing woman pansy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaywrites/pseuds/gaywrites
Summary: With the coming of 8th year and Harry and Ginny’s blossoming relationship, deeply buried feelings resurface in draco.I listened to Heather by Conan Gray and it completely ruined me.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 9





	Heather

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is so short holy shit. Just trying to get the ball rolling.

Draco Malfoy hated two things more than anything else in the world.

Public displays of affection and anyone associated with Harry Potter. And so it was almost impossible for him _not_ to loathe the very ground Ginny Weasley walked on, he often rationalised in his head. It wasn’t as though they were slobbering all over each other like the many other couples in his year, in fact, he hadn’t once seen them kiss, but somehow the little things unnerved him so much more.

And so he stared, positively seething from his place seated in the shared common room, watching her tuck a stray strand of hair behind Potter’s ear, grimacing at the resulting sickeningly sweet bubble of laughter that followed. It was the innocence of their touch, so nonchalant and consequence-less, that gnawed at his nerves. Why couldn’t he touch Potter like that without it being a whole thing? He’d seemingly made it a point to befriend absolutely everyone but Draco. It bothered him.

If he thought about it too hard, it did make a world of sense. Draco had been doing an awfully good job so far of deterring any non-Slytherin’s attempts at conversation since the beginning of term. After the war’s end, everyone seemed positively eager to abandon any old grievances and become best of buddies. It irked him something dreadful. They were all smiles and good mornings like they hadn’t spent the last 7 years wishing him dead. He shuddered slightly, remembering Granger’s abysmal attempt Granger at offering him to come out for a drink with the rest of Potter's Golden Group. His haughty expression and soft disbelieving scoff was enough to send her in the other direction with a pink face and huffy apology.

So yes. Maybe he hadn’t been the greatest at creating new bonds. And possibly his constant scowling did little to invite people in. But come _on _! If Potter could have a friendly chat with Blaise Zabini who had almost hexed him to death, he could offer Draco a good morning.__

His only indication that anyone else was even in the room was the soft plop of a body sitting on his armchair, smashing his train of thought. “Do you mind?” He didn't mean for it to come off as bitterly as it did; not that Parkinson wasn't used to his foul moods.

“Interrupting your brooding, am I? You look like you’re trying to set Weasley’s hair on fire with your mind.” Pansy said severely, eyes bulging as she mocked his venomous stare. Draco huffed, turning his envious eyes onto the Slytherin.

“What in the world does Potter see in that girl?”

Pansy took a moment to rake her eyes up and down Ginny‘s body from where she stood at the mouth of the common room, dark eyebrows furrowed as though she was hanging onto Potter’s every word. There was a pregnant pause.

“She’s got nice tits.” Pansy finished lamely.

“Oh sod off, Parkinson. If you're not going to take me seriously, I'll be off to bed.” Draco stood, heading for the dorm. He just wanted to lay stiff as a board on his two-by-four, waiting patiently for sleep that would never come, like he did every night.

“Merlin, the drama! It’s 6 PM!” Pansy yelled after him, sniggering to herself good-naturedly as he flipped her off.

Draco had always been one to sulk when he didn’t get his way. And now more so than ever, that was becoming quite frequent. He lay on his bed, curtains drawn tightly and charmed shut as jealousy practically seeped from his pores. Glaring at the ceiling as though it had personally offended him, he prepared for another long night of bitterly listening in on his giggling classmates. That was until an all too familiar voice called out. Bloody Potter sure did have a knack for showing up where he was not wanted.

"Uh, Malfoy?" For a split second, Draco whole-heatedly considered ignoring him until his hopelessly short attention span ran thin. But it wasn't everyday Potter initiated a conversation with him. With an admittedly rather dramatic groan, he wordlessly released the holding spell on his curtains. And there he stood, with his stupidly long black hair that seemingly never sat correctly on his head, and his way-too-green eyes full of concern like he was something to pity. He always had that expression on his face now when he looked at Draco; like he wanted so desperately to save him. It reminded him of the way Potter so openly vouched for his innocence, arguing for weeks on trial against the Ministry for Draco and his mother's release. He never truly thanked him for that. He felt a knife twisting in his chest. Draco broke eye contact first.

"What is it, Potter? Ginevra's lips finally bored you to death?" Potter's eyebrows drew together and he opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then immediately after decided it wasn't worth the energy. He had always been so easy to read.

"You don't have to be such a ponce all the time, you know. I just wanted to ask if you'd come to grab a drink with us." He had the ghost of a smile on his lips. Harry had never smiled at him before. Draco found he quite liked it.

"Is this how you talk to all your budding friends? Insult them then bribe them with alcohol?" Harry was full-on grinning now and Draco felt like he would kill to see it again.

"Are you fucking coming or not mate?" Mate. Draco was his 'mate'. It truly was a near-perfect depiction of how deeply infatuated Draco was with Harry Potter, as those simple words filled him with euphoria so indescribable it left him temporarily speechless.

"Malfoy?"

"You're lucky I like to get shit-faced."

**Author's Note:**

> Bruh moment. Spoiler alert: Draco does not like to get shit faced


End file.
